


Wolf

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto’s the only student not afraid of the demon prince.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 21
Kudos: 271





	Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

During his second year at the downtown campus of Insomnia’s top university, Prompto finally figures out why all his peers avoid the back of the East building. There’s a lane that pulls up there, a small parking lot that’s rarely used, and that’s where the prince goes after his classes. The other students give him a wide berth, and at first, Prompto thinks that’s normal—he is _the prince_ , after all, and he’s so hot that it’s intimidating. Of course no one would dare approach him. But then Prompto slowly realizes that they’re also _afraid_ of him. The crystal’s corrupted him, they say, and the papers are always speculating on just what kind of demon he’s become. He isn’t quite the same as the _daemons_ beyond the walls—he’s still sane, intelligent: will become their next king and use the crystal to protect them. But that comes at a cost. None of the other students are willing to pay it. 

But Prompto spends one semester curiously glancing at the handsome prince across the cafeteria, eyes lingering every time they pass one another in the halls, and Prompto’s pretty sure he’s heard the King’s Knight soundtrack coming out of Noctis’ phone. Nobody goes out of their way to avoid Prompto, but he doesn’t have any real friends either. He thinks he and the prince might have more in common than what’s on the surface. 

He doesn’t do anything about it, not so much because he believes the nasty rumours his peers whisper about, but because they still couldn’t be friends even if they were completely compatible. Maybe a demon and a human could learn to get along. But Noctis is still _the crown prince_ , while Prompto’s a nobody. And Noctis is about a twenty out of ten on the hotness scale, whereas Prompto thinks he rests comfortably around a six. He could maybe reach seven if he really worked at it. That’s where he caps out. Noctis wouldn’t give him the time of day.

He starts leaving via the back lane around the east building anyway, because that’s what direction his apartment’s in if he’s willing to cut through the small forested area, and he’s not willing to treat Noctis like the plague that everyone else seems to think him. Most days, he doesn’t see Noctis anyway. Then he lingers late on a Thursday because the library’s computers are faster than his one at home, and he rounds the corner in time to see Noctis leaning against the grey brick wall. The dirt around his feet is muddied, still slick with the earlier rain, the sky dark and cloudy. The gravel road in front of him isn’t particularly car-friendly, but Prompto thinks that’s where Noctis’ ride comes, either indulging in the other students’ fear or just vying for discretion. The forest starts up beyond that, hemming them in—they’re totally alone. 

Prompto looks at his prince, really _looks_ at him—his trim, taut figure fully on display. His crisp uniform tightly hugs his body, the collar of his shirt undone and his tie loose around his throat. His dark hair is a messy curtain across his half-veiled eyes, bored expression turned down to his phone. He’s clicking away at it with one hand, the other stuffed inside his pocket. He’s probably gaming. Or maybe Prompto just wants him to be. Prompto sucks in a breath and forces himself to move forward. 

Noctis even _smells_ delicious. His cologne is indescribable, or maybe that’s just his natural scent—either way, it’s intoxicating. Prompto stops in the midst of Noctis’ orbit, hovering just within arm’s reach. Noctis doesn’t even look up. Prompto feels incredibly insignificant. But he opens his mouth and asks anyway, “What’chu playin’?”

Noctis pauses. He glances at Prompto, and immediately, those dark eyes pierce through Prompto’s entire being. He’s fixed to the spot and couldn’t leave if he wanted to. His pulse might have even quickened. Definitely quickened. It’s racing. The more he looks into Noctis’ eyes, the louder he can hear his own blood pounding in his ears. Noctis looks marginally surprised to have someone talking to him, but not as surprised as Prompto when Noctis actually answers. “King’s Knight.”

Prompto breathes, “I love that game.” He should say more, needs to say more, but his tongue is thick and his brain’s foggy. Noctis is somehow even hotter up close and personal, which should be impossible, because he was already the most gorgeous creature Prompto could’ve possibly conceived of. Prompto tries, “Uh... do you play a lot?”

That sounds so stupid. _He’s_ stupid. He hates himself. Noctis looks at him like he’s crazy and bluntly asks, “What’re you doing?”

Prompto’s never prayed for an earthquake in his life, but now he’s desperately hoping Titan will split the ground and let him fall through a crack in it. He squeaks, “Making conversation...?”

“Don’t you know what I am?”

Prompto swallows. He mumbles, “The prince?” And then he realizes he’s been _extra_ stupid, because he should’ve tacked ‘your highness’ onto all his sentences and didn’t. He can’t believe he just addressed the crown prince of Insomnia like a normal human being. 

Noctis slowly clicks off his phone. He slips it into the pocket of his jacket, and then he moves, taking a step around Prompto, and Prompto submissively retreats—he lets Noctis back him up against the wall. He can feel the damp brick scraping his jacket. It’s hard, cold, but he can practically feel the _heat_ radiating off of Noctis’ body. Noctis takes the final step forward, slotting his foot between Prompto’s, and then Noctis is _right there_ , pinning him in place. Prompto feels like the prey of some feral wild cat. In the moment, it doesn’t feel like a bad way to die.

Noctis drawls, “I’m an _incubus._ ” When his lips part, his teeth actually look pointed in the dull evening light. Somehow, that only turns Prompto on more. 

He’s sick. He shivers, scrunching his eyes closed, because he’s seriously going to come in his pants if Noctis keeps looking at him like that. It’s so _intense._ He turns his head away, subconsciously exposing his throat. Noctis leans in close enough that Prompto can feel the warm breath ghosting across his cheek. 

“This is the part where you _run_.”

Prompto’s face scrunches up even more. He shakes his head. He probably should, but he can’t. Noctis asks, sounding halfway bored, halfway curious, “You’re not going to?”

Prompto shakes his head again.

“Why not?”

Prompto sucks in a breath and somehow blurts out, “I’m afraid if I move you’ll see my stiffy.”

Silence follows. He can feel Noctis pulling back. He blinks his eyes open, and sure enough, Noctis is staring down at his dick, very much hard, straining against his boxers and uniform pants. Prompto knows his entire face is pink. He’s never been so embarrassed in his whole life. He can’t believe he just said that. He should’ve just kept walking.

But a grin slowly forms on Noctis’ attractive features, and he asks, “You’re not scared?”

Prompto’s terrified. He’s convinced he’s going to make a fool of himself and wind up begging to suck his prince off or something. He super wants to. He’d give his right hand just for Noctis to give him a hand job immediately. But he can’t say any of that, so instead, he squeaks, “Can we play King’s Knight together sometime?”

He waits for Noctis to laugh at him. Noctis does chuckle. His arms lift to bracket Prompto, one hand to either side of him, flat against the brick. Noctis purrs, “Only if we do it at my place, and clothes come off for every game lost.”

Prompto breathes, “Oh Six.” He’s seconds away from creaming himself. He can one hundred percent see that Noctis wasn’t lying about the incubus thing. He’s _so_ into it.

The tense silence is only broken by a sleek, black car pulling into the alley. Prompto catches a glimpse of it over Noctis’ shoulder and curses his luck, because as incredibly embarrassing as the moment is, he’s not ready for it to end. Noctis straightens up and glances idly over his shoulder. 

Then he demands, “Give me your phone.”

Prompto hurriedly obeys. He takes way too long fumbling in his bag, because his hands are shaking so badly. Then he watches, dazed, as Noctis punches in his friend code. He even opens the contacts list and clicks on Prompto’s profile, reading out, “Prompto Argentum.” He looks up and catches Prompto’s eyes again, drawling, “Catch you later, Prom.” He even winks. Prompto’s melting. 

The phone’s put back in his hands. He almost drops it. Noctis withdraws and wanders over to the car, which he slips inside. When the car door closes, the effect he had on Prompto doesn’t disappear. 

Prompto watches the car drive off, then hurriedly rushes back into the nearest building, immediately needing a restroom and practically sobbing with happiness.


End file.
